Free The Wedding Shop by Rachel Hauck Page A

with a narrow, lean figure, Mama was always ready for a social occasion. Even in her housedress, she looked groomed and elegant. “Got my dress from the shop.”
    She leaned against the wall with her coffee cup in one hand, her cigarette in the other, a thin tendril of smoke drifting through the window screen’s narrow netting.
    “We had a lovely shipment of ready-made evening gowns arrive this spring,” Cora said. “The brides are choosing them for their trousseaus.”
    “Aunt Jane and her wild idea.” Daddy shook his head. “Bring high fashion to middle Tennessee gals.” Jane was Daddy’s aunt, his father’s baby sister. But she’d been like another grandmother to Cora.
    “We had a customer from Birmingham yesterday. A legacy from Jane’s day,” Mama said. “They practically ordered the whole house, didn’t they, Cora?”
    “If she could’ve ordered more than one wedding gown I believe she would’ve. So her mother let her go on to evening dresses and traveling suits and lingerie.”
    Daddy popped up his hands. “I don’t want to be hearing about a woman’s unmentionables.”
    “Funny, that’s not what you said to me the other night.”
    “Esmé!”
    “Mama!”
    She chuckled and feasted on her cigarette.
    Daddy cleared his throat, fixing on his breakfast, cutting his pancakes until his knife scraped over the plate. “Oh, say, I looked at your account yesterday, Cora. You’ve a fine balance. I contacted Jane’s attorney, asking for the rest of your trust. You’re thirty now. You’ve met the requirements.”
    “But I thought you wanted me to leave it be. Let the money grow. We’ve plenty of money, like you say.”
    “I think it’s wise to go ahead and bring the money into a safe place. Don’t know what them Yankee bankers are up to, and I’d rather have your money in my bank where I can keep an eye on things.”
    “If you think it’s wise . . .”
    Cora did her own books so she kept a close eye on things. But Daddy knew money like most men knew boxing stats or baseball scores. She trusted him. In fact, he’d established his bank using his experience in past banking panics and crashes to build what he considered a new kind of bank. His motto was, “Heart’s Bend Mutual, Your Money Is Safe with Us.”
    When Aunt Jane died, she left the shop and a tidy nest egg to Cora.
    “So you’re certain the crash from last October won’t reach us down here, Ernie?” Mama said.
    Daddy shook his head, mopping up syrup with a cut of his pancakes. “Not likely. Things are settling down. In fact, I’m investing. To be honest, I’m more worried about the malaria epidemic than any bank failing. Keep smart business practices, Cora, and you’ll be fine. Have you given any more thought to my idea of buying a house? It’s a good investment.”
    “Are you trying to get rid of me?”
    “You know better. You’re just sitting on a lot of money for a single gal. You could rent the place out, line your nest egg a bit more.”
    “If it’s all the same to you, I’d rather wait until I move to my husband’s house. Besides,” Cora said, motioning between her parents, “I’m the cream between you two tough cookies and you know it.” All, ahem , lingerie discussions aside.
    “She’s got you there, Ernie.” Mama stamped out her cigarette in the ashtray and refilled her coffee cup. “But let’s not get too far adrift. Cora, I still want to know why you were running down First Avenue yesterday. You went to get pastries and returned fifteen minutes later empty-handed, flushed, and out of breath.”
    “Let’s not make a big to-do out of nothing, Mama.”
    “She sent Birch Good off to do her bidding, Ernie. Which he did, happily.”
    Daddy eyed Cora with one eyebrow raised. “Hmmm . . . Birch would make a fine husband. He’s no dewdropper.”
    “Dewdropper? Now, where did you hear that word? Are you trying to be a flapper?”
    “I hear things. I am a bank president, a leader in this town. I’m